A Gaslight Romance
by ZomboDeZany
Summary: Haru thinks that she is just going to have a normal day - but when Muta appears in her garden with an unusual request from the Baron, she finds herself crossing some massive timezones...
1. Chapter 1

**A Gaslight Romance**

A/N This may contain some Baron/Haru in it; I'm not entirely sure yet... And this is my first fanfic on this film (and it's been a while since I've seen the film so please don't be overly critical if I get any details wrong, thanks :3).

**Chapter 1 – The World Awaits**

The cow-shaped alarm clock beeped loudly, but only for a few seconds. A hand slammed down on it in frustration. Haru awoke slightly crossly, for she had been dreaming a wonderful dream, in which she and her "more interesting" friends were flying through the air on wings of gold and silver (except Toto the eagle/crow, he being a bird of sorts, already had wings).

But now the dream was over... Haru sighed in resignation and felt with a slight thrill that it was the weekend. Yes! No more boring school-work for 48 hours! She loved Saturday mornings. She changed out of her pyjamas into blue slightly flared jeans, a tacky blue t-shirt that bore the legend "I rock like Vesuvius, baby" (it was not something she'd normally buy, but it had been a gift from a relative who had visited Pompeii a few months ago), and robin's egg blue jacket. Quite why she was in a blue theme today was a little beyond her – perhaps it was because the azure skies in her dream wanted to manifest themselves into reality in some slight way...?

But she let this thought float off into the ether, as insubstantial as the faded dream, as she walked slowly downstairs to cook breakfast.

Haru's mother was by now used to the phenomenon of her daughter cooking breakfast on the weekends as she herself descended the stairs and wondered sleepily into the kitchen/dining room. It had been nearly a year since she had first walked down one morning and found Haru all ready to go out with her friends for the day. But not that she knew it had been nearly a year. Things had fallen into this routine.

Haru, however, did know. She remembered it was the day after her "more interesting" friends had rescued her from the Cat Kingdom.

It was in fact, one year precisely, since she had been rescued from the clutches of the overweight and greedy Cat King.

Haru said goodbye to her mother, who accepted the sight of her only offspring charging out the front door at top speed as normality these days. She only sighed happily and gave a faint smile as she spread more butter on her toast.

But what Haru accepted as normality these days would have shocked her mother. As Haru was leaving the front gate, a familiar voice greeted her with a loud yowl.

"Hey! Where d'you think you're going?"

"Sorry Muta, can't stop, I'm on my way to see you right n-" Haru skidded to halt just outside the gate, swinging on the gate post as she did so. On the post had been seated a large, tubby and rather shabby sourpuss of a cat. But, as the girl had swung round, Muta had fallen off as he jumped backwards in alarm and found himself in a rose bush. He flew out of the rosebush at 60mph, landing on the lawn with an arched back, hissing slightly.

"Oops." Was all Haru could think of to say as she tried to stifle a giggle.

Muta glared sulkily at her, trying to pick a rose thorn out of his front right paw. After watching him struggle with his lack of opposable thumbs for a few moments, Haru took pity on her friend and tried to pull it out herself. Her reward for her pains, was another pain resulting from the cat's reflexes. He had scratched her, making a slight rip in the jumper and a small scratch on her hand.

"Hey!" she said loudly.

A little _too_ loudly. "Haru? Is everything okay?" Her mother called, opening the front door.

"Uh, yeah, everything's fine, Mom! Just a _crazy cat_ clawed me when I tried to get a thorn out of its paw!" Haru replied quickly, looking daggers at Muta.

"Well, at least you did something nice! Have a good day!" her mother replied as she closed the front door and returned to her toast. Haru smiled as she saw butter dribbling gracelessly down her mother's chin.

But her thoughts returned to the sourpuss on the lawn. "Muta, it's nice t' see you, but how come you're here, and not at the crossroads?"

"Well that's nice!" Muta grumbled, "I come all the way here, facing danger and that's the thanks I get? I dunno why I bother..." Muta stood on all fours and shook himself slightly, his tail huffily erect, rather in the similar fashion of a finger. Then his eyes widened in shock as his friend reached down and scooped him up in a hug.

"Awww I'm sorry!" Haru said apologetically in a slightly mocking way.

"Hey watch it!" Muta yowled, before streaking off down the road.

"Muta, wait!" Haru said.

Muta, now puffing for breath, slowed. "Okay, okay. Just had to get away from that rose bush."

"Sure...but why are you here?"

Muta was looking very peeved. "Because Baron asked me to give this to you ASAP." the cat looked up and down the street, and after finding it deserted, stood up on his hind legs. After searching around on his person, he produced a white blank envelope sealed with a green wax seal in the shape of a cat's eye.

Haru eyed the envelope with envelope with mixed feelings of excitement and trepidation. What would be so important for the Baron to write in a letter? Had he gone away?

With slightly trembling fingers she fumbled with the seal. After gazing at her for a while in the way cats do, Muta stepped in.

"Allow me." He extended a single claw and used it as a paper knife. Haru pulled out the sheet of paper and scanned the lines of neat, spidery writing in dark green ink.

_Dear Haru,_

_I was wondering you would care to accompany me on a little excursion. I will be waiting for you there, and I hope you will enjoy it. _

_I apologise for sounding so cryptic, but I cannot divulge too much information for fear of disrupting temporal harmony. _

_If you wish to join me, please go to the Cat Bureau and enter the courtyard between the two houses to the immediate left. Proceed into the rear wall and there you will find me. If my calculations are correct, please go there at 8:59AM precisely and I don't think you will be disappointed._

_Yours sincerely, _

_Baron Humbert von Gikkingen _

Baron Humbert von Gikkingen... the cat figurine she couldn't stop thinking about. Her feelings for him were rather mixed. On some days, she regarded him as nothing more than a good friend, but...there were days when she found herself daydreaming of him as rather more than that... and when she daydreamed in class, her teachers grew annoyed. In fact, Mr Jusung had gone so far as to phone Haru's mother because of her conduct in class. But then again, Mr Jusung was a complete jerk.

But whatever Jerky Jusung did, Haru's spirit wasn't crushed. She just couldn't keep Baron's face out of her mind. Well, he _was_ kinda handsome, for a cat figurine that had magically come to life to be a flesh-and-blood figurine-sized cat-person...

But she shook herself out of another reverie and glanced at her watch. It was 08:47AM. Now she understood why Muta was here, and not at the crossroads. If she had walked there she wouldn't have time to get to the Cat Bureau at the right moment.

She sprinted down the street, the fat cat running behind her, valiantly attempting to keep up.

As soon as they were at the crossroads, Haru veered off, heading along the usual winding path in the between spaces behind buildings. She had reflected many times, that it was perhaps appropriate that the between place between worlds was only accessible by other between places. Haru wasn't entirely sure that it _was _betweenworlds; but whatever it was, it was a charming place.

And now here she was: she was till unsure of its real name, but in her mind she always thought of it as _Catopia_. It appeared to be a town square surrounded by charming and brightly-coloured European-style buildings. In the middle was a tall pole up which Toto the eagle statue sat.

But today, he was not here. Haru supposed he had probably come to life again and was hanging out with his eagle buddies.

The one thing that was odd to any newcomers was the fact that everything in the place was scaled down to cat-size (except Toto, he was still the size of a regular eagle), hence Haru's nickname, Catopia.

She looked at the Cat Bureau. It was still the same as ever, a quaint little green-and-white painted house, looking like something straight out of a fairytale. However, she looked to the building on the immediate left. She had never paid much attention to it beforehand. It was a little red house with a bay window...and then nothing at all except at large gateway on a white wall, which connected with the white building. Haru reasoned that at least this gateway would be easier to crawl into than the little doorway of the Bureau. She prepared herself, and crawled towards the door on her hands and knees, and attempted to push open the gates. They swung open easily, as if they had been oiled recently.

"Hello? Hello? Is anyone here?" Haru called loudly, hoping she wasn't intruding on someone else's property, but she had never seen another living soul in 'Catopia' apart from Muta, Toto and the Baron before (apart from all the cats from the Cat Kingdom who had kidnapped her, of course).

Haru looked at the rear wall of the bare, empty courtyard and wondered what would happen. _Well,_ she remembered, _if those cats could drag me through all those walls, maybe Baron's got something similar..._

She crawled towards it. She touched it with her hand. It rippled slightly, like a pond, and went - _gloop! -_ very gently...

Applying caution, she crawled slowly towards it, apprehension rife throughout her body. She could feel She felt a tingle in her fingers as she pushed her hole hand through the wall. Was it the effect of the hole in space, or was it just her? She could feel branches and leaves on the other side.

If the Baron was asking her to come out of a tree that wasn't very safe. But Haru trusted the Baron with her life. And though she'd never tell him so, she'd even _risk_ her life for him. And, without knowing for certain, she forged her way ahead into the deep end of the pool of life...


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – Worlds Apart**

Haru felt cold, as if the rippling wall was a sheet of ice, but she pressed on. _I__f Baron can do it, so can I!_ She told herself, although she wasn't sure she believed it entirely. She had difficulty pushing through the branches and leaves when she emerged on the other side. Although she felt dry, the coldness persisted.

Haru surmised that she was probably in a bush and not a tree, because the ground was muddy, soft and damp. She groaned, but was glad she wasn't wearing her best jeans. She pushed herself forwards, which wasn't easy when she was try to keep the branches out of her eyes with the tools she needed to propel herself forwards. But she finally managed it and emerged from the small shrub. To her right and quite a distance away, barred from her by an iron railing was a wide, long river lined with buildings. This was vaguely familiar. A bridge spanned this river, which was illuminated in the fog by old-fashioned gas lamps. Haru couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that she had seen this bridge before.

She checked her watch. It was 9:00AM back home but then, without warning, loud bells began to chime, as the Great Clock of Westminster began to play the Westminster Chimes, the famous song known the world over. As the Westminster Chimes faded, the bells began to chime in midnight.

Haru whirled round in alarm at the sound of bells and saw the person she had hoped to meet. There he was, standing there looking resplendent in his crisp white suit as the mist playfully swirled around his ankles.

"Baron! You're...normal-sized!" Haru could barely contain her delight. "I mean, in my scale of normal!" she added. "How come?

Baron Humbert von Gikkingen raised a hand that was encased in a elegant white kid glove to the rim of his white top hat and tilted it slightly. "Ah, Haru." his voice was calm and gentle. "I'm glad to see you made it."

He looked thoroughly resplendent in his white topper and tails..._and really handsome too..._ Haru thought, with a small blush.

The Baron was not the sort of person who used his facial muscles to show emotion. Instead, he conveyed nearly all his feeling through his shining yellow eyes. At the moment the eyes twinkled smilingly at Haru, and she caught herself gazing into them.

"I-I'm not entirely sure why I'm this size..." the Baron said thoughtfully. "Uh, perhaps it's because I fit so well with the ambience of the place?"

For the first time ever, Haru was (rather guiltily) suspicious of her friend. Was he keeping things from her? This idea of his had seemed to come out a little...rushed... But she decided it was nothing. If the Baron was not telling her the whole truth, then he probably had his reasons.

"Baron, why are we in London?" she decided to say at last. (And yes, they were in London, England, UK, for those of you (not many, I assume) who haven't gotten hold of that particular thread).

"I'm not entirely sure about that, but it is simply where the tunnel come out. I did not make it. That is to say, I did not _create_ it."

"Oh, I see...I think..." Haru said, feeling none the wiser. "I just figured there was some special reason you wanted to come here, unless ya felt like a vacation."

Well, I did feel like a short holiday would do me some good, but I also wanted you to meet someone. She's partially the reason we're here."

She? She? Haru's heart sank...so the Baron had a lady-friend. Well, could Haru blame him? He was so handsome and dashing and.._no, snap out of it Haru! No need to go all Mary-Sue-ish about it! Do the right thing and meet this woman. If you act all childish about it, Baron will never forgive you, and then what? No more seeing him, or Muta or Toto ever again!_ Haru scolded herself. She decided to brace herself, and to take her medicine like a woman.

"Zoe! Zoe! Would you come back over here, please?" the Baron called softly behind him. Then, out from behind the corner of the bridge wall walked a small girl of about four or five years of age. She was attired in a small, bright yellow silk dress with all the frills and bows one would expect. The skirt of the dress came down to only her knees, but it was inflated by so many layers of frothy lace petticoats that it hardly mattered. Only her knees were barely visible, because the clean, white socks just stopped underneath her rather knobbly kneecaps. Her highly-polished black patent-leather buckled shoes gleamed in the lamplight.

It was the first time that Haru noticed the lamps on Westminster bridge. They looked the same as they did in the photos of it, but they were different, somehow...

Haru realised what a complete Dumbo she had been. As she stared out across the slithering expanse of the River Thames (pronounced 'Tems'), she looked at the place where the London Eye ought to be. _The lack of traffic on the roads should have been a hint,_ she mused.

But, shelving these thoughts, her heart soared. The Baron wasn't enamoured with anyone just yet! Haru turned her attentions back to the little girl, who was clinging coyly to the Baron's trouser leg, hiding behind him.

Haru, having visited London a few years ago on a field trip, knew how to speak English pretty well.

"Hey." She said, smiling gently to the little girl "uh..." Haru glanced up to the Baron for help.

"Zoe." he supplied.

"Hey, Zoe." Haru said, feeling more confident. "It's okay, I'm not gonna bite you."

Zoe looked up at Haru and smiled cautiously, in the way that small children often do when meeting someone new.

"Hello, my name is Zoe." the little girl said in a definitely upper-class way, and stretched out a tiny hand in what was meant to be a lady-like way. "I-it's nice to meet you." Zoe seemed to think for a moment. "Do they mind you dressing up as a man?"

"Sorry? Oh, right, yeah. No, they don't mind." Haru looked down at herself and saw why the little girl was so confused. Haru was wearing something that no females of the time would ever dream of wearing. She glanced around the smoggy skies, drinking it all in.

A dark shape flapped past a gas lamppost. Haru suddenly had a fleeting vision. "Baron, where's Toto?"

The Baron, looked at her carefully, before staring down the river towards a distant staunch edifice that was as famous (and nearly as ancient) as the city.

"I do believe he said his best bet to aid us on our quest was to pay a visit to the Tower..." The cat figurine whispered in hushed tones as the fog began to close in...


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm not sure if the surname "Cloade" is a real one or not, but it does occur in one of my favourite Agatha Christie novels "Taken at the Flood" ("There is a Tide..." in the USA); and so my usage of it (and, at a stretch, the fanfic as a whole, I s'pose,) is an homage to her and her brilliant works. It could also be considered a tribute to some of my favourite comedy shows as well (e.g. You Rang, M'Lord?; the Embassy Lark; Jeeves & Wooster; Dad's Army etc.) – you will find some references scattered throughout...

Chapter 3

The drawing room fire blazed merrily in the stone hearth, although no-one felt particularly happy. The crackling flames cast long shadows up the striped red-and-pink wallpaper towards the reasonably high white-moulding ceiling. The grim portraits of dour-faced people in Regency dress hung sternly on the walls, glaring fiercely at any who dared to look upon them.

The fire was once again the only light source in the room. With a sigh, the occupant of the leather wing-back armchair closest to the fire stood up and moved nearer to the wall to the left of the grate. He tugged a thick velvet rope (which had tassels on the end), causing a far-off bell to tinkle furiously. In a curiously short time, the temporary butler appeared, as if by magic, through the panelled hardwood door.

"You rang, M'Lord?" he enquired in a slightly imperious voice.

"Yes, erm..." Lord Anthony Cloade, the master of the house, released the bell rope as he returned to his chair, struggling for words. As a lord it was most embarrassing, to not know the name of the new butler. His usual one had mysteriously fallen ill and was bedridden. And then, even more mysteriously, this stranger had appeared on the doorstep, smartly dressed with a crisp (albeit rather affected) accent that could only be described as "posh cockney".

"...Tresillian, sir." the temporary butler murmured, coming to his Lordship's rescue (although this new butler didn't go by the title of "butler" - he preferred to refer to his post as "The Comptroller of the Household"). "Is there anything you wish me to assist you with?"

Lord Cloade opened his mouth to speak, but his wife, Lady Celia Cloade, cut in ahead of him. "Please remove your hat and coat before addressing your betters."

Tresillian bowed gravely before speaking, "My apologies your Ladyship, but as a matter of fact I was just orf on me way 'ome. I do 'ope I 'aven't caused any hundue hoffence..." Nevertheless, the top hat and overcoat was promptly removed. He tossed them away behind him into the hallway without a second glance. But strangely, there had been no soft thumps...

Lord Cloade took advantage of the silence to make his point heard. "I say, Tresillian, I wanted to arsk if you could get some candles in here? It's jolly dark in here, and the gas is on the blink again. I can't tell if we're asphyxiating or not..."

"I shall 'ave the gas system seen to first thing in the morning yer Lordship. I shall now send the footmen for the candles." Tresillian was about to leave on his errand, when Lady Cloade began to speak once more.

"Please don't bother yourself Tresillian, it's much too late for that now." she paused as she gave a most unlady-like yawn. Looking mildly ashamed of herself, she continued, "I'm about to retire to bed."

"Very good, M'Lady. I shall 'ave the maid sent upstairs with the bedpan in ten minutes, and then I'm orf 'ome."

Lady Celia arose from from her chair and set down her knitting. "Goodnight Tony dear, don't stay up too long, for I shall know..." She left her words hanging in the air as she bustled down the corridor, her skirts trailing behind.

"I do wish she wouldn't call me Tony, it's so dashed common..." Lord Anthony muttered in annoyance as he heard his wife ascend a flight of stairs somewhere around a corner in the hallway.

"Would you care for a nightcap, M'Lord?" the butler inquired, motioning towards the maple drinks cabinet, upon which rested squat decanters of brandy and whiskey, with healthy-sized full-bodied glasses that were perfect for the supping of fine alcohol.

"No, no thank you." his Lordship changed his mind almost at once. The butler's hand hovered over the whisky decanter. "Actually, on second thoughts, I'll have one, and you may pour one out for yourself."

"That's very generous of you M'Lord, there ain't many on this street 'oo'd have been so considerate." the butler poured out generous amounts into each glass and, after placing them on a small silver tray, carried them over to the fireplace. "As I recall when I served at Downin' Street, I'd always thought to meself, nahw this gent's got clarse. But as clarsey as 'e was, 'ed not never hoffer me anything..."

"I'm afraid I carn't remember where it was you'd served in Downing Street. Was it Number 10?"

"Hunfortunately so, sir. The Prime Minister is glamorous, but one 'as to be in 'is position. I've not never 'eard of an unglamorous PM. But then again, glamour is all 'e 'as." the Comptroller of the Household took a swig of drink before continuing, "'Is manners is disgraceful. 'E may as well 'ave greeted the French President wearin' nuffin' but yesterday's newspaper."

Lord Cloade chuckled. As he gulped down a swig of brandy when the butler handed to him as he sat down, his expression became more serious. He motioned for Tresillian to sit down in the chair opposite. "You strike me as one of those people who can just look at someone and glean the information of their character within a matter of hours. Tell me, what is your opinion of Nanny Hobday?"

Tresillian seemed to think carefully before composing an answer. "She's a very...reliable lady. The sort you could set yer clock by. In fact, we do. But... 'as 'er little mis'ap caused you dissatisfaction?"

Now his Lordship seemed to hesitate. "Yes. Her mishap...as you refer to it...has caused me to reconsider her position in this household. Although..." his voice seemed to catch in his throat. "She has been in this house for almost 35 years. She was even my Nanny when I was a boy. I do not think I could dismiss her. But now, the circumstances have changed." his voice seemed to steady as he drained his glass. "yes, the circumstances have indeed changed. Tomorrow Tresillian, you may inform Nanny Hobday that her services are no longer required."

Tresillian rose to his and bowed. "Yes sir. If that is all, I shall now depart for the night, M'Lord."

"Yes, yes." Lord Cloade waved a hand vaguely at his butler as he seemed to slowly contemplate his decision to give his faithful Nanny the sack.

The Comptroller of the Household exited through the drawing room door and padded down the hallway making no more noise than a cat. He paused suddenly, as if he could, by some sixth sense, sense the presence of another being. His ears twitched slightly. His emerald green eyes scanned a dark doorway nearby and said quietly, "It's no use 'idin' in there. I can see you. 'Ow much of 'is Lordship's chat did you over'ear?"

Nanny Hobday crept out of the doorway in a nervous manner. There were red rings around her pale blue eyes. It was evident she had been crying. "I-I'm a shocked you have the temerity to ask such a question!" she said, whilst another cob racked her body. She patted herself down, as if trying to find a handkerchief.

"'Ere, borrow one of mine." the butler produced a hanky as if from thin air and passed it to the grateful Nanny Hobday who dabbed her eyes.

"T-t-thank you." she whispered. The stout, middle-aged woman gazed blearily at the young man who stood before her. She couldn't shake off the idea that there was something not quite right about him.

He was about 6"7, with raven-black hair which had a side-parting to the left. He currently wore what is known as the morning suit, despite that it had just gone midnight. The trousers were pinstriped, the tailcoat was long and black, his waistcoat was a green the shade of bottle glass and embroidered with a slightly swirly and floral pattern. Clipped across his waistcoat was a golden fob watch chain, that was presumably attached to a fob watch inside the right-hand waistcoat pocket. He wore a white shirt with a high, white starched collar, around which was tied a black bow tie in a very neat - impossibly, geometrically, neat – bow. But this was by no means the most interesting feature of Tresillian.

His skin tone was interesting, it must be said. He was pale. Incredibly so. His skin tone was almost the colour of chalk, except that it had a slight grey tinge to it. But around his eyes the skin was a very dark grey, almost charcoal shade.

But even this was not the most unnatural fact of the man. It was the eyes. Those sparkling emerald eyes, were if one looked at them for long enough, were a mere façade. They were cheerful and warm and full of kindness, it was all genuine; but they hid something much deeper. The longer one stared in, the more one could see the sadness, the grief and the pain that could only have been acquired over centuries.

Nanny Hobday looked into those two unnerving eyes and realised that whatever she said to this man, he had, somehow, heard much worse. "I did not overhear anything that passed between you and his Lordship. I was in here this whole time. I just cannot stop thinking about poor Zoe. Lost and alone. Frightened, and cold." she broke down in tears once more.

Tresillian's face bore a passing expression of discomfort and embarrassment which he replaced quickly with a boyish grin. "Now, now. It's alright, Nanny 'Obday. I 'ave me contact in lots of places." he patted the woman in fraternal way on the back in an encouraging sort of way, "We'll soon 'ave young Zoe back again. We below stairs 'ave to stick together."

Out of thin air once more he seemed to produce his overcoat, top hat and a cane made of some shiny black material which bore an ornamental silver cat's head on the end.

He padded down the mahogany parquet hall and opened the front door carefully. "Goodnight, Nanny 'Obday!" he called, and without waiting for a reply, closed the door without a sound and headed off into the smoggy London night, in the direction of Parliament Square.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Hyde and Seek

Haru shivered as the fog drew in closer, obscuring almost everything in sight. She and Zoe drew closer to the Baron, who wrapped his arms around them protectively. A dark shape flew past the dim blur that was a gas streetlamp and settled down on the grass in front of Haru's feet. The smog lifted as soon as it had rolled in, in the way London fogs do (and they were often nicknamed "pea-soupers", presumably taken from the phrase "as thick as pea soup").

Haru gasped, or at least, _tried_ to gasp in delight and relief, and discovered that this was impossible. She settled to just gasp in relief. She looked down at Toto, the statue of a crow with a soul.

Toto appeared to be quivering with rage.

"Hey Toto, what's wrong?" Haru asked, with concern in her voice.

"Do you know what they do to those Ravens on the Tower of London?" he asked in an unusually bitter tone.

"Ah. I see you are referring to the old superstition." The Baron said, calm and passive as ever.

Haru was intrigued. "What superstition?"

"Well, it is said that if there are less than 6 Ravens in the immediate vicinity of the Tower of London at any one time, the Kingdom of England shall fall. And many are of the opinion that if England falls, the rest of the United Kingdom of Great Britain shall collapse. And because there has never been less than 6 ravens at any time, no-one has even found the legend to be false or true." The cat figurine rattled off impressively, as though he had absorbed an encyclopaedia.

"Yes, but you know that they clip the wings of the ravens so they can never fly from the Tower?" Toto cried in anguish.

"Yes, I know. It is a depressing thought, but the ravens are our best bet for finding out where Zoe lives. A lot of the birds in London feel sorry for the Ravens of the Tower, and generally stop in as they pass to have a chat; and so the Tower is a centre of gossip." the Baron murmured in his calm way. He looked down at his old friend. "Toto, did you find out anything of interest?"

"Not as such, but I managed to get the word out of Zoe's description of her house. Now all we can do is wait, I guess." Toto looked up at the Baron, still unused to his friend's increase in height.

"Yeah, but where? I mean like, we can't stay here forever." Haru felt silly even as she said it. It was soooo obvious and blatantly stupid! What would The Baron think of her?

The Baron looked down at her, his eyes, twinkling as if he was gently mocking her. "There are a large number of inns that have rooms to let. I am quite sure we can find lodgings. There is no need for concern about money. That has been settled."

Haru was even more mystified than ever. What was the Baron up to? She once again found herself questioning his methods. And, once again, she felt a tinge of guilt creep across her brain. She gave herself a tiny shake, to dispel these treacherous thoughts.

Lord Anthony Cloade, who was a short, portly individual, was only similar to his brother in facial features. The Honourable Meredith Cloade was fifteen years older than "Young Tony" (who was in his early thirties) rather taller, a good deal thinner and was a little more reserved in his outlook. He was not as conservative with his emotive output as Baron Humbert von Gikkingen, but he was certainly a close contender at times.

Meredith had a certain quality about him. He seemed to have the ability to meld with the fog, and to use shadows as effective hiding places. Had he been born on the Discworld, he would have been very lucrative in Ankh-Morpork's Guild of Assassins. But since he wasn't, he did make a very good hunter and tracker, and had spent much of his time travelling over the African veldt and through uncharted rainforests collecting many animals heads and hides with which to decorate the townhouse.

At the moment, he was not tracking any animal, or bird. But a human. A specific one. There was something not quite right about Tresillian, the new butler. Meredith knew that Tony would be displeased about his tracking the new "Comptroller of the Household" but Meredith was unconvinced that the strange young man was innocent of anything. It was certainly odd, that he should simply happen to turn up, on the very day when Forster, the regular butler fell ill suddenly. Also, it was unusual that he appeared only a few hours after Zoe had been abducted by persons unknown.

Meredith, wrapped in a long black cloak with a wide-brimmed sou'wester on his head to obscure his face, crept slowly along the narrow, cobbled and setted London streets and alleys.

Although Meredith couldn't be sure, Tresillian seemed to acknowledge his presence without ever showing he did in an obvious way. He seemed to be humming peacefully to himself in a tune that Meredith had never heard before. It was a strange, haunting tune that seemed to echo the ages.

Tresillian's eyes gleamed as brightly as his polished silver cat's head cane each time he passed under a flickering gas lamp.

Meredith recognised where the strange young man was headed. After leading the hunter on a merry dance through London's back alleys and wide thoroughfares as though he was taking a midday Sunday stroll, the Comptroller of the Household stopped as he reached the middle of Parliament Square.

Tresillian glanced around as he waited for his contacts. They seemed to be late. He thought it would be unwise to grapple with London's vicious underbelly, but he knew that that they didn't really stand a chance if they tried anything. This thought made him grin slightly.

"Psst!" came a low whisper, from Great George Street.

The young man turned. Meredith, spying him from the shadows of an inset doorway on the opposite side of the square, watched intently. What shady deals were happening here?

Tresillian crossed to greet the newcomers. "Good evening, gentlemen. I hope you have some good news for me."

Meredith was taken by surprise. This was not the accent the butler had used in house, earlier. This accent was not posh, per se. It was more like a calm, Received Pronunciation tone, which was favoured by the yet-to-come British Broadcasting Cooperation during the 20th Century and was hence also referred to as "the BBC accent".

Three rough-looking and burly men leered at this impeccably neat and non-threatening figure with cruel smiles playing about their grimy lips. "'Ere, shows us yer money first. 'Ow do we know you're gonna pays us for this little tip-off?" said the largest in a thick growling South End drawl.

"Very well." Tresillian sighed impatiently.

Meredith was not sure if his vision was failing him. What was this idiot thinking? Was he actually going to pull out his wallet in front of this rough mob? The gentleman hunter groaned to himself as he saw the leather wallet being carefully unfolded.

Before Tresillian knew what was happening, the mob pounced on him, drawing out various blunt instruments that had been designed to inflict as much pain as possible with the least amount of effort.

Meredith whipped out "Bessie" in a trice. Bessie was the name he had given to his faithful hunting rifle, which he always carried with him when he stalked something. Even if he wouldn't actually use it when the tracking was complete, it made him feel complete, like a proper hunter. He was glad he had Bessie with him now.

As he aimed the gun, a shape fluttered past his line of fire in the fog and caused him to step backwards in slight shock. The gun let off a loud BOOM that echoed around the square. He had only meant to fire a warning shot, but with another thick wave of fog rolling in, he was unsure who was where, and so when he fired he discovered he had hit the one person he ought not to.

Tresillian cried out, not so much in pain, but as if it was unexpected. He felt the bullet enter his shoulder with a numbing coldness, rather than the traditional searing agony one may expect.

The three thugs evacuated the scene and scarpered off into the night, with the wallet's contents all ready to be spent in a week or so.

Meredith shrugged and decided he would let the authorities deal with this properly in the morning. Tony would be livid when he heard what had happened (and Tony was head of the family, despite being the younger brother, due to his unusual circumstances of birth and hereditary peerage). There was no way the butler could have withstood the many blows to the cranium and a shattered collar bone.

As the hunter heard the sounds of police whistles approaching, he melted away into the night...

Haru couldn't believe the scene she had just witnessed. It was unthinkable. She shivered and huddled even closer of the Baron. They had both been shielding Zoe from the bloodthirsty action and Haru had covered the younger girl's ears so she wouldn't hear the violence at her tender age.

The Baron quietly made his way towards the stricken corpse.

He tipped his hat politely at the man and said, in a voice so measured it could have made a spirit level look wonky, "Good evening. It's alright, your assailants have gone."

Haru gasped, as the young man stood up as if he had merely tripped over an untied shoelace on his Sunday meanderings. With sickening bone-popping and crunching noises, the damage that had been so brutally inflicted was somehow magically reversed.

The man with the pale skin and mysterious green eyes caught sight of Haru, Zoe and Toto, and beamed as though they had just won some sort of fairground prize. He shook the Baron warmly by the hand, with a look of bemused bewilderment and non-recognition crossing his features as he murmured, "I'm pleased to meet you, um...um...have we met before, by any chance...?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Haru awoke suddenly, and began to wonder briefly if everything in the last few hours had been a dream. The events were certainly bizarre enough to qualify for a role in a dream; but then again, Haru's life had become rather less-than-standard over the course of the 365 days that preceded this set (by her own personal timeline).

The was no light in the room, except for the brilliant light of the half moon that shone through the gap in the thick, heavy drapes. The narrow beam of light sliced through the room and conveniently illuminated the face of the clock on the bedside table. Haru looked at it.

In her befuddled, sleepy mind it took a while for three things to register.

It was 02:17, and she was bone tired

Why was she so tired, anyway?

This was certainly not _her _clock.

Neither was this her bed, her bedroom or her nightdress. As she gently climbed out of the bed, and shivered in the chill of the cold air, she tried to get a better look at her surroundings. Finding that she couldn't, because her eyes were still adjusting to the gloom, she stumbled across the plush carpet that may have been red (if her memory served her accurately from her vague memories of last night) and grasped the thick, heavy velvet drapes with slightly shaking fingers.

The drapes rustled gently as they allowed themselves to be pulled open, revealing the large arched window that stretched from floor to ceiling. It was one of those old-fashioned affairs that was divided up into a number of panes by slats of wood and the bottom part could be raised or lowered to expose the room to the elements. There were three in all, spaced evenly along the wall.

It had turned out that these windows had originally been in the ballroom but had been moved by the Countess of Falsgrave to her personal bedroom when her husband the Earl of Falsgrave had taken it into his head to replace the ballroom windows. Most of the windows had been discarded, but these three survived.

Haru only knew this titbit of useless information because of the man she had watched earlier in Parliament Square had told them about it over dinner.

The girl returned to the bed, if only to try and regain her lost warmth as the chilly draft began to pick up again. She had a fleeting wonder if the Baron slept at all, and if he did, would he provide any warmth at all? She reached for the hot water bottle and clutched it to her as she thought. She lay back on the large, deep pillows and drew the blankets up to her chin as she began to cogitate over the happenings over the past few hours.

(_)

Haru gasped at the sight of the grinning man in front of her. She felt Zoe cling to her leg in fear.

The Baron motioned for Zoe, Haru and Toto to approach. As the sounds of the police whistles drew ever closer, and running footsteps and shouts grew louder with each passing second, everything seemed to happen very quickly. The man with the shining emerald-green eyes and wide beaming smile seized hold of Haru's arm as well as the Baron's. Toto had perched on the cat figurine's head and Zoe was still holding onto Haru. Before Haru's eyes the world seemed to dissolve and then reformed, very quickly. She wondered if nothing at all had actually happened. But reason told her it must have, because she was in a completely different place than the one she had been standing in seconds before.

The man who had brought them here relinquished them and stepped backwards, with an apologetic expression on his visage. "I'm sorry about that. I ought to have asked you if you've been Transported before. But we had to move quickly. I didn't wish to involve Sir Robert Peel's Not-Quite-Finest in this matter. It's far more complex than they could comprehend, I'm afraid." he paused, as if remembering something very important. "But I'm getting ahead of myself," he said once more in that apologetic tone "Welcome to the House of William Bartleby, 13th Earl of Falsgrave-on-Pyre," he spread his arms very widely indeed and took on an almost showman-like quality, a large smile spreading across his sallow, sunken cheeks with warmth that radiated off him like sunshine. "All the residents and staff are out at the Earl's country estate for the summer, so we've got a free run of it."

The Baron's topaz eyes scanned the surrounding entrance hall. There wasn't much light in the place.

The other man seemed to notice because he he swiftly crowed "Lights!" to seemingly no-one in particular. The whole house illuminated spectacularly as every single electric light bulb, gas lamp, candle and lantern that wasn't in storage lighted themselves as if by magic.

The Baron reasoned it most likely was. He cleared his throat. "It was very good of you to take us here sir, otherwise we would have had to find an inn. And I fear that Zoe here would have been recognised."

"That's perfectly okay. Think nothing of it. I haven't told you my name, have I?" the man said, sounding apologetic again. "Well, I go by a fair few, so I suppose you'd best just call me Nostradamus."

He then did something very strange. He walked up to the Baron and before anyone could react, he raised his right hand, and flicked the Baron's forehead. The cat figurine froze instantly, rocking gently on china legs. Nostradamus flicked the figure's forehead a few more times. "Hmmmmm." he murmured academically, like an archaeologist trying to decipher an ancient text. He paced around the figurine's supine form. The life-size china statuette stared back at him, as if asking, "Why?"

Haru and Zoe were rooted to the spot. Haru wanted to demand of this man what the hell he was doing, but he was speaking again, to the Baron.

"You are really quite incredible, I must say. And you shouldn't even exist," the man pulled out his fob watch from his waistcoat "for, I'd say, just under 3 months." He gestured with his free hand as he tucked his watch back into waistcoat. Haru detected faint wisps of blue, ethereal smoke waft out of the man's fingertips which dispersed into the ether as soon as it curled off them. The Baron returned to flesh-and-blood once more.

(_)

Now it was dinner time. The Dining Room was another large, impossibly vast room with the high ceilings that Haru was still trying to adjust to. Nostradamus and the Baron were seated at opposite ends of the lengthy rectangular dining table on throne-like chairs. Zoe and Haru were sitting side-by-side somewhere in the middle of the table. Toto was perched up in the chandelier, eating...something that he had discovered in the street outside. Haru silently wished that it was a rat. A rat would be so much more savoury than...the other things that lay abandoned on the streets and alleys of 19th Century London...

"More wine, Humbert?" Nostradamus offered Baron Humbert von Gikkingen, letting go of the wine bottle and allowed it to float down the table towards the Baron, who had graciously accepted with a slight tilt of the head.

"I believe the question you should be asking, is Why don't we return Zoe to her parents?'" the Baron said, in his calm, and level timbre.

"I've been thinking about that," Nostradamus replied, equally calm, as he set down his cutlery, and wiped his mouth on a napkin. "Does it not strike you as odd? It is not every day that little girls wander through space-time portals. Of course, I'm not denying that it _doesn't_ happen, look at the story of Alice, for example; but it is extremely unlikely. No, something tells me that this wasn't a coincidence. I ran a scan on the Cloade residence. There is an alien presence in that house. And it seems that it wanted young Zoe here out of the way..." he finished darkly.

Haru felt a slight pang of disappointment when there was no thunder, no flash of lighting as he said those words.

Zoe looked up at the sound of her name. But she yawned and thought nothing of it. "I'm really rather tired. I'd like to go to bed." as soon as she had completed her sentence, the chair she was sitting on began to trot briskly towards the double doors, which opened graciously to allow her passage before clicking shut quietly.

The man who she knew as Nostradamus had enchanted the whole house, it seemed. He was a magician of some kind, she mused. The kitchens had prepared them all any meal they desired that was available in this period. Apparently donor kebabs and French fries were off-limits, Haru grumbled to herself. But she was content with the boiled potatoes, roast gammon and assorted boiled vegetables an gravy that Nostradamus had had the kitchen utensils rustle up for them. He hadn't really seemed bothered to go for the seven-course meals that usually occurred in houses like this. Indeed, the kitchen seemed resent making such a low-brow dish.

"Zoe remarked earlier that she had had a cat with her when she went through the portal. Perhaps if we could wait for it to return we could hear its side of the story. Zoe has said that she only went into the bush because her cat did so..." the Baron said calmly, his topaz eyes staring into the emerald ones of his colleague, who had steepled his fingers. "Haru, you haven't said much for a rather long time, are you alright?" the Baron enquired, turning his gaze to her, giving up on the game to try and guess the strange magician's thoughts. He had formed a conclusion that Nostradamus could indeed read their thoughts with ease, if felt so inclined. That rankled with him slightly. But at least the newcomer into their adventure had been polite about it. Although the cat figurine had not greatly appreciated being solidified back into his original form for those few seconds. It wasn't overly comfortable.

Haru suddenly jolted out of her reverie and wondered for a moment. "So you're saying that cats are the key to this mystery?" she smiled, a thought occurring to her, "If we find the cat, we can let it out of the bag..."

The two men chuckled at her joke. Haru opened her mouth to speak again. "Oh yeah Baron, I've been wondering, why didn't Muta come with us?"

The Baron gave her one of his rare smiles. "Muta has had his own job to do from the beginning." he paused for a moment. "I do hope he's alright." he murmured, feeling a little concerned. Muta had a heart of gold, a stomach of asbestos, fists of steel and lungs of iron, but the motivation and resolve of a damp jay cloth.

Haru remembered what she had wanted to ask Nostradamus earlier. "What about those thugs who stole your wallet?"

the man with the pale skin and green eyes ginned a highly demonic grin that seemed to curve up the sides of his face. Haru decided that smile looked _sooooo_ much better on Jack Skellington. It just made this guy look really creepy. "Oh, well I just put a simple vice-cursa on it."

"What is a vice-cursa?" the Baron asked, intrigued, before Haru could ask it.

"Nothing much, really. Just a little curse that's a pun on the word vice-versa. It's rather similar to the reverse charges function on a public telephone box. Except that the recipient of the curse receives the reversed charge. That is to say, any damage they inflict upon another person will affect themselves instead. For example, if one of them plunged a knife into me, I would heal instantaneously and they would receive the flesh wound." he saw the Baron's eyes and relalised that what he had said may have been misconstrued, slightly. "But don't worry. What you saw in the square wasn't the curse at work. I just...cannot die twice. The curse won't affect those criminals until the begin to spend the money."

Haru wasn't sure what frightened her more, the description of the just-desserts curse, or the fact that Nostradamus had talked about it in such an offhand, matter-of-fact manner. She was beginning to have a very mixed opinion of this stranger. And what did he mean, that he couldn't die twice? Then again, his pale skin and the dark rings around his eyes were an immediate clue.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The noise of the city. A noise which many have described in great detail, the noise of so many people, processes and objects that all soon amalgamates into the single sound of the world's biggest animals: the metropolis. And there was no noise louder than the sounds of London in the 19th Century. Currently (as it was then) the world's largest city and seat of the most expansive empire in history.

As soon as Nanny Hobday strode briskly down the front steps and into the wide, tree-lined avenues with her charge, Zoe Cloade, in tow, the noises of the urban scene wafted into their ears to greet them. The rattle of carriage-wheels and the horses' hooves intermingled with the hundreds of pairs of smart leather shoes and hobnail boots. The many cries of the street vendors attempted to rise above the din made by children playing, nannies scolding and people talking.

Because it was such a fine day, Nanny fancied that she might take Zoe to see the Houses of Parliament where her father worked in the House of Lords. As the sun shone merrily down on the bustling city, Nanny hailed a hansom cab which clip-clopped to half next to them. She climbed aboard, helping up Zoe and the cat, Marmaduke.

Marmaduke was a sleek white Persian which the customary long and fluffy white hair that was lovingly bushed by Zoe nearly every morning.

As the cab rattled into Parliament Square, and Westminster Palace hove into view, Marmaduke bolted without warning. Zoe screamed and, before Nanny could stop her, she leapt from the moving cab and ran through the busy road, weaving through the traffic after her missing moggy.

The cat, running as though its life depended on it, ran under a small bush at the foot of the Houses of Parliament. With the bold spirit of Alice entering the rabbit hole, Zoe followed him without a moment's hesitation.

When her young ward had vanished into the blur of traffic, and was not visible once the cab had stopped, Nanny Hobday felt a sinking feeling in her heart that she may never see Zoe again, as tears obscured her vision.

(_)

Marmaduke found himself trapped suddenly in a tiny courtyard. But he vaulted the wall with ease and ran through the plaza of scaled-down buildings that he didn't have time to study. He had to run! He had to, absolutely had to get away from that evil spirit, that unearthly monster that plagued his house! He saw an archway and hoped that the monster couldn't follow him. He sprinted along a winding maze of alleys between incredibly high buildings until he saw something which took his breath out of his lungs like a hammer blow to the ribcage. Racing a long the widest street he had ever seen in his life were the most strange carriages he had ever encountered.

Motor cars! He thought, having heard Lord Cloade and Meredith discussing purchasing one, last week. But the buildings were so...so...high! And the writing on large signs did not look familiar to him at all, except that he knew he was somewhere in the Orient.

But surely those Asian chaps didn't have all of this, did they? Why, the Queen had barely gotten around to teaching them about Western civilisation! He concluded that he must have travelled through time, or that he was dreaming. But, that monster, than vile creature from some unknown realm was pursuing him! And he was sure that it was real. Too real. After some careful consideration and listening to his gut instincts and internal compass, Marmaduke knew that there was only one place he could go to to seek help.

(_)

Baron Humbert von Gikkingen pulled on his tailcoat and gently placed his top hat onto his head. He crossed the room towards a small writing desk from which he plucked a letter and held it out to his friend.

"Muta, I would like you to deliver this letter to Haru, please. It is rather important." he spoke softly in his usual tone.

"Why don't I give her one or two of your sonnets about her whilst I'm there?" Muta teased, munching on toast and honey.

The Baron's swiftly turned to look out of the window at something, although Muta knew it was because the figurine's cheeks had taken on a rosé tint.

"What I can't figure out," Muta continued in an overly-loud and nonchalant manner, "is that why two people who share feelings don't do anything about it. I mean, if it were me, I know I'd leap in there."

Although he knew the Baron was thinking hard about this in his spare time, Muta could sense that he had pushed too far. "That's enough, Muta." the Baron's voice was laced with an edge Muta had only ever heard when something very important was happening. The topaz eyes looked more hard gem-like than ever, now.

As the Baron took Zoe's hand and led her outside, he gave Muta a Look and closed the door gently. Once again the figurine weighed up his arguments for his conundrum. Yes, he had to admit that he couldn't deny that there was something about Haru that piqued his interest that transcended an intellectual level. But he wasn't sure if it could ever work out.

For one thing, there was the obvious difference of scale. And another thing, Haru's mother could scarcely approve of such a match. And then there was the age difference. Although the Baron's bio-chronological age was 22, he had been on the Earth for 117 years, which made al the difference in the world. But there was also another reason. A reason he dared not think about for three decades. It began with an L, but that's as far as he'd ever permit his mind to wander since his vow thirty summers ago to not think about it to save him pain.

(_)

Muta watched Haru enter the courtyard to the left of the Cat Bureau, before entering the little green house. He remembered what the Baron had told him before he left with Zoe. "You must find him, Muta. Find Marmaduke. I know you can, my friend. Just believe in yourself."

And so, Muta headed off to the crossroads where he knew that there would bound to be some other cats hanging around. Perhaps they'd have some light to shed on the situation. He spotted a a small ginger tabby talking with a scrawny grey tom cat. They were in an alley next to a pile of overturned dustbins and industrial skips.

Muta instantly knew that they were strays, scavengers, living off the waste of humans.

"Hey! Do you guys know if there's a long-haired fluffy white cat around here?" Muta asked, in a tone so blunt it could have been used to cosh the strays on the head.

The two cats stopped their discussion about which night manoeuvre was more effective on the various females they were chasing and what sort of fish was better to entice them, and looked down at Muta from the pile of trash there were sitting on.

"Maybe we've seen 'im." said the ginger tabby, fiercely. He was a small specimen and looked scruffy but adequately fed. He spoke with a nasal, New York City gangster accent. "What's it to you?"

"Yeah, why'd ya wanna know, fatso?" spat the grey tom. He was a cat with flea-bitten, patchy fur and he looked malnourished from an early age and was under-developed in stature. In attitude he was somewhat over-developed. His voice sounded as if he's spent most of his life eating the best part of Manhattan Island's granite foundations.

"Fatso?" Muta growled. And it was a growl. A guttural one that made both the smaller cats feel as if they'd hit a Wrong Nerve. "The way I see it," Muta snarled, leaping up onto the rubbish bin with an agility that belied his tubby framework, "is that either you tell me now," he picked up the ginger tabby and thrust him down onto the ground. He did the same to the grey tom. Before either of them could react, they felt a dead weight hit them and then settle there. "or I'll sit on you both until I get an answer," Muta continued "and believe me when I say that I could sit here allllll day."

He shifted his buttocks into a more comfy position and then whispered, "oh yeah, I ate a lot of Mexican food earlier, so you';d better be able to hold your breath for a long time." and to illustrate his point he let rip very noisily indeed. Unfortunately for the grey tom, his facial cheeks were in an unpleasant proximity to Muta's cheeks.

"Okay, okay, I give in!"the grey cat said, in a muffled and strangulated tone.

Muta clambered off them and stood up on his hind legs. "So, have you seen him, or not?"

(_)

Marmaduke rushed through the city, and raced down an alleyway to hide under something until he caught his breath. He peered into the darkness but could see nothing, even with his good night vision.

"Well well, what do we have here?" said a nasal voice.

"Ah, greeting my good fellow. Could you perchance direct me to the Cat Kingdom, please? I'm sure King Erasmus will be pleased to see me once again." Marmaduke uttered crisply in as friendly voice he could muster.

"Yeah, okay, first you -" started the ginger tabby until the grey cat punched him. "what? I was only trying to – would ya stop punchin' me, Tom?"

Tom looked daggers at his companion before turning back to the long-haired cat. "What're you doin' on our territory, house-cat?"

"I only seek guidance, dear sir. Are you an American? I once travelled to New York on a steamer once, oh what fun it was!" Marmaduke looked at the grey tom carefully. "Hmm. Are you a relation of Thomas Macey? I met him once. He was a fine fellow, I can tell you. Hospitality was his game. A grand chap. I'd like to see him again, soon."

the grey cat's jaw dropped. "You knew Thomas Macey? He was my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-granddaddy. Geez, man sorry. Didn't know you were a family fr- waaaaait a minute. Are you tryin' to con us?" Tom's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"no sir. Please, I only wish to go to see king Erasmus. He is the only one I can turn to in my hour of need."

(_)

Muta walked down the alley after having heard the tale and paused. "By the way, a bit of advice. The next time Renaldo Moon asks for something, give it to him straight out."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N apologies for the poor quality of this chapter, but it's just a filler I knocked up quickly in order to keep the story flowing. Hopefully the next chapter should be much better. Thanks for your time :)

**Chapter 7**

Muta decided he would have to use the Baron's shortcut. The shortcut was a hole in the fabric of space-time that had been installed by Lune in the Cat Bureau, shortly after his coronation as a reward "for services of bravery and chivalry". It led, unsurprisingly, to a chamber in the Cat Kingdom's castle. This also allowed the Baron to handle his affairs there more conveniently, and it also meant that he could arrange to visit his clientèle if they did not wish to go to him.

But now Muta was going to use it to recover the lost customer and return him to 19th Century London. By any means necessary...

(_)

King Lune looked down the long throne room towards his new subject with interest. The long-haired Persian cat was rapidly approaching him with a speed and familiarity that was slightly unnerving.

"Your majesty, your majesty! Oh I am glad to see you, Erasmus! I have had the most _dreadful_ time. I have been chased from my mistress's house by the most hideous fiend that you ever laid eyes on. A truly horrific sight that would set you fur into the most exquisite curls!" the cat gabbled in the tones one uses when one encounters an old friend one has not seen for a very long time.

Lune seemed to be a trifle puzzled. He was sure he had seen this cat somewhere before, but was unsure exactly where. And who was Erasmus? "I am sorry." Lune said kindly. "I am not Erasmus. I am Lune, king of the cats."

"Well Ezra, you _are_ a loon if you think you're not yourself." the newcomer chuckled in a way that seemed far too chummy. Luckily, Lune was a very tolerant king and had a long patience that was legendary.

"No, I mean that I believe you have mistaken me for someone else. I am King Lune."

Marmaduke looked bewildered. He looked hurriedly at the surroundings. They were the same. Yes, there was the same sandstone walls, there were the same tapestries and drapes. But this king was not his old chum Erasmus. Although there were very much alike, the colours of the eyes on this cat were the wrong way around; and Lune's fur was a little lighter than Erasmus's.

Marmaduke cursed himself for being so foolish. Of course! If time had moved on in the human domain, then logically, time must also have passed in the Cat Kingdom.

Suddenly, one of the servants whom Lune had sent out a few minutes ago when Marmaduke had arrived rushed back in again, clutching a dusty old tome in a rush of excitement.

"Your maj! Your maj! He's the Duke of Orange! And that's how he got his nickname, because marmalade is from oranges and so he was teasingly named the Marma Duke. But...but..he died years ago." the servant faltered as he held the book up to the king.

"So I wonder what he's doing here..." Lune mused, looking at the picture of the cat in the book. There was no doubt as to who this new cat was. "Your Grace, have you returned from the Other Side for a visit, or are you here for another reason?" he asked, half-joking.

"Your majesty. I believe that I am in another time. I was chased from my house by a vicious monster and I thought I could hide under a bush next to Westminster Palace, but I found myself in some Oriental city. And it's all rather unfathomable to me." he finished lamely. He was feeling rather out of his depth. What was that creature that had brutally exiled him? And why had it done so?

Lune was skimming through the book. "Your grace, you live in London, England, Great Britain, around the year 1893, yes?"

Marmaduke nodded, "Yes that is the precise year I have just left. What wondrous time am I now in?"

Lune didn't have the heart to tell him. The king felt sure the Orange Duke's knees would buckle if he told him. And he didn't want a fainting duke in his castle, no matter if he was a great-great-great times infinity -great-uncle.

The doors at the far end of the long, rectangular throne room burst open. The Master of Ceremonies who stood at the door to announce guests looked amazed at the new arrival's lack of dignity and respect. He was about to protest when a large and chubby white cat with a brown patch on its head strode into the room and said to the MC: "Tell his nibs it's Renaldo Moon."

The MC gulped nervously. No one, not even the kings and queens, dared to refuse entry to the legendary Renaldo Moon. "Mr Renaldo Moon!" The MC yelled in a half-strangled voice, filled with dread and uncertainly.

"Muta!" King Lune beamed at the large cat who had just entered. "Is Baron von Gikkingen not with you?" he asked, a trifle disappointed. But nevertheless he swept gracefully down the long room and met Muta in the middle. They shook hands and the king draped a fraternal arm around the fat cat's shoulders. That is, he _tried. _But he couldn't quite reach.

"I'm looking for a cat called Marmaduke. Baron asked me to get him back to his own time." Muta did not waste time mincing words unless it suited him. "Do you have any snacks around here?" Muta enquired over the sounds of his rumbling stomach.

Lune gestured to some servants baring covered dishes and said calmly, "Please offer my guests some repast. They must be exhausted from travelling all the way here."

Muta registered the plural. "Guests?"

"Of course, Muta. His grace came straight to me, instead of the skulking and weaving as you may have been expecting." Lune's voice was annoyingly calm, like the Baron's after he won a card game against Muta.

The fat cat merely grumbled "Geez, you wasted no time in getting some worldly wisdom under yer belt..."he buried his face into his dish of fresh tuna, whilst the Marmalade Duke regarded him with an expression of distaste on his face. He came from a world where table etiquette was rigorously observed.

Lune seemed to be thinking. "Hmmm. How do we solve this little problem? Maybe we could fix up some sort of magic circle-"

Muta held up a paw and slurped up the last morsels of tuna and gave a gargantuan gulp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his other paw before speaking. "No need your nibs. Baron's got it all covered. I just needed to find him. Thanks for the fish, but I've gotta get moving. C'mon, Marmaduke, we've gotta get you home." _And then I can go back to sit in my chair, my legs are killing me. _He added in his head.

Marmaduke looked enquiringly at the king. Lune smiled encouragingly. He leaned in the whisper in the Duke of Orange's ear. "Don't worry about Muta. Underneath his pig-like exterior beats a heart worthy of 15. He'll get you home." Although Lune didn't quite believe in all of that statement even as he said it, he hoped that the Marma Duke would swallow it long enough to get home.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Haru awoke once more and realised that she must have fallen asleep again after trying to remember the events of the night before. And after realising how obvious that sounded, was very glad that she hadn't said that thought out loud.

She dressed herself quickly in her own clothes (she didn't dare to try on any of the period clothes in the wardrobes, simply because she knew she'd require an army of maids to help and she'd be very uncomfortable moving around in them.

The door opened for her, but Haru being Haru, she bumped into it. And then as she turned around to apologise after walking onwards, she walked backwards off the top of the stairs and began to descend rather more quickly than she'd have liked. Suddenly the Baron was racing up the stairs to try and catch her, but they both ended up falling down the stairs in a tangled mass of limbs. They skidded along the polished parquet floor, one on top of the other. They lay there for a few minutes catching their breath and Haru whispered "Thanks," before an uncomfortable silence fell around them. After a few tense seconds of not knowing what to do next, Haru gently disentangled herself from the Baron's frame and helped to pull him up off the parquet.

It was then that she noticed her friend was not wearing his tails, but a long striped apron that protected his red waistcoat, white shirt and white trousers from the splashes of cookery. The Baron took her gently by the arm and steered her down some small back stairs to the kitchens.

The kitchen was another cavernous room, like many in the houses of the aristocracy, but but unlike the grandly decorated rooms, the kitchen was a place of function only. This was where most of the servants spent their time, and so dominating the place was a long wooden refectory table lined with long benches.

Copper pots and pans hung from the whitewashed walls and ceilings, alongside other large utensils that looked like disembowelling devices. There was a large range stove with an oven and griddle on it for all the main cooking purposes and an enormous open fireplace next to it for the purpose of roasting meat.

It was evident to Haru that before she had interrupted their rhythm, the Baron and Nostradamus had been cooking up a storm. She watched them in amazement as they regain their pace. They flowed around the kitchen floor, gyrating and spinning, throwing and catching, passing items without a single glance and all without a single word said to each other. It was as if they were doing ballroom dancing instead of cooking, each with his own invisible partner, swirling around a dance floor.

The soundtrack was supplied the frying bacon, eggs and mushrooms and the noises of utensils and their own footsteps. Quite often they would swirl around and change cooking stations. It was all so enthralling that Haru barely noticed that the Baron had spoken. "Haru, would you like fried bread or toast instead?" the topaz eyes glinted merrily. Haru suspected that Baron von Gikkengen hadn't performed a cooking dance-off in quite some time and was thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Huh?" Haru asked, shaking herself out of her mesmerised state. She tried to recall what he had just said to her. "Oh yeah, yeah, that sounds good." she mumbled.

"Fried bread it is, then!" Nostradamus crowed and began to toss the the bread that Humbert had just sliced neatly into a frying pan and waved his hand so that the utensil would cook it for him. He sat down at the long kitchen table.

"I've been meaning to ask you, Nostradamus. Are you _the_ Nostradamus of legend, the seer? I know that you're a zombie. I wasn't difficult to ascertain, I'm afraid." the Baron asked politely.

Nostradamus shook his head. "You're wrong on both points, I'm afraid Humbert. I merely called myself Nostradamus because I rather liked the name. I am not a zombie either. I once was, however. Now, I am, well, I'll show you." he rose to his feet. He clapped his hands and the candles were extinguished. Total darkness fell.

But not for long. An ethereal blue glow emanated from Nostradamus who had turned blue and transparent. Faint wisps of ghostly blue smoke seemed to drift off him before curling off and dispersing into nothingness. He floated silently into the air and disappeared through the ceiling.

He decided to return to Earth and, with a wave of a hand, rekindled the lights. He returned to his original, opaque form.

(_)

The front door of the Cloade residence was imperiously daunting and was guarded fiercely by a lion's head knocker.

Nostradamus didn't appear to require a key to gain entry. But Haru was still reeling from delight at how they had arrived here. They were only ten streets away, and so they had progressed on foot. However, they didn't so much _walk, _rather,they _danced_. Their new ghostly friend had enchanted the entire neighbourhood to perform the entire "Who will Buy?" song & dance routine (and several others) from the popular musical "Oliver!" and the song & dance steps of "London is London" from the musical "Goodbye Mr Chips". Even though it took longer than the average fifteen minutes walk it was infinitely preferable.

They crept into the front hall and Nostradamus showed them into the drawing room in his "posh-cockney" accent. Just as he was about to close the door a beeping sound emanated loudly from his jacket.

"That..that sounds like a pager."Haru said carefully She tugged at the long silk dress Nostradamus had conjured up for her. He had tried to make it more comfortable for her by fashion it into something from the Edwardian era that was 8 years in the contemporary future. It had far more manoeuvrability than the wide dresses ladies of the time wore currently, but Haru was still finding difficulties in adjusting herself to the customs.

The ghost pulled it out of a pocket in his jacket. "Oh! I'd forgotten all about that!" he said, returning to his usual voice and looking at the message on it. "I have an urgent appointment elsewhere. But if I hurry I'll just have time to settle things here. If Anthony Cloade, 4th Marquis of Derrington-on-Sea thinks he can give Nanny Hobday the sack on my watch he's got another thing coming." The man said grimly, stowing the pager away.

He left them in the Drawing Room and padded down the parquet hallway towards the Morning Room.

"Enter!" boomed a voice. Nostradamus recognised it as belonging to Meredith Cloade. He did not like the Hon. Meredith very much. The man grated on his nerves.

"There you are, Tresillian! What sort of time do you call this?" Meredith demanded as soon as the nose of the Comptroller of the Household was two millimetres past the door frame.

"Time to learn the meanin' of the word 'patience', sir?" 'Tresillian' enquired in his imperious and 'posh-cockney' voice.

"I beg your pardon?" Lord Anthony Cloade cried, incredulity pasted across his face.

"Hi said, it's arf, parst 9 hay hem in the mornin' sir. 'As the staff not served you your breakfast?" Nostradamus muttered smoothly.

"Of course they have Tresillian." chirped Lady Celia from a chair. "When he hasn't had his breakfast he gets much more teasy than this, don't you dear?"

"Celia!" Anthony barked, trying to shut her up. His wife took not of shred notice.

"But he's does become _dreadfully_ angry when he does his tummy exercises-"

"-Celia!-"

"-especially the ones where he tries to push himself up orf the floor using just his arms-"

"-Celia!-"

"-he does look so wonderfully amusing when he carn't get up-"

"-CELIA!-" her husband howled.

"-Incidentally dear, you won't try to do them today, will you? It's just that with all the rugs up to be beaten you'll end up bashing your face into the floor and knock out your remaining real teeth-"

"-CELIA!-"

"-and then you'll really look like a tortoise unable to move!" Celia Cloade twittered.

"CELIAAAA!-" Tony Cloade nearly bayed at the moon in anguish – and would have done had it not been daytime.

"-and you know how the dentist is terribly fussy about putting new teeth in, dear." Lady Celia finished. She reminded Nostradamus very much of a rare bird that tweets to itself in its sleep.

Lord Cloade thrust his copy of the Times newspaper onto the floor in a huff and marched out of the room stiffly, his face a shade of crimson. He clicked his fingers and indicated that the hovering manservant followed.

'Tresillian' closed the door, but not before Meredith let out a loud guffaw of mirth.

Lord Cloade led his butler to a small room and told him to get inside. "Not a syllable!" he sighed, in a style reminiscent of Sir Jeremy Creighton-Buller who faced down his own perplexing wife. "Not a single solitary blarsted syllable get into that empty head of hers!" he stared at noithingness for a while until he remembered why he had pulled the butler in here.

Nostradamus looked around and saw that it was the Writing Room. "You wish to dictate to me a letter, sir?"

"quite. Now, take this down, will you?" Lord Cloade commanded once the butler had grasped a pen and a sheet of paper. It didn't look like any sort of pen he'd ever seen before. For one thing, it didn't require an ink bottle. "221b, Upper Baker Street. 'Dear Mr Holmes, your assistance will be greatly appreciated to-'"

But before he could continue his dictation, Nostradamus cut him off. "No need for that sir, I 'ave taken the liberty of 'irin' a very reasonable detective 'oo is in the Drawin' Room, sir, with 'is assitant."

Lord Cloade was taken aback. "Oh! Well, uh, jolly good! Now, have you dismissed Nanny Hobday?"

The butler sniffed haughtily and said simply, "No, sir."

"Well, then jump to it man!" his Lordship chivvied impatiently, like a child waiting for a magnifying glass to frazzle an ant colony.

"No, sir." the voice remained impassive and irritating.

"I trust I did not hear you correctly." Lord Cloade's tone became assertive and (in his own head) dangerous.

"You 'eard me perfectly, sir. Your 'earin' is as sound as a bell."

"Then how dare you disobey me!" Cloade burst out. He eyebrows twitched an a vein began to bulge in his forehead.

"How dare, I, sir? How dare I? How dare you, more like!" Nostradamus boomed in his ordinary voice, looking suddenly very majestic and a little larger than life. His eyes started to change colour from emerald green to a dark obsidian purplish pigment. His skin began to melt and bubble, but before anything else could happened his seemed to get a grip on himself and take a swig of something from a hip-flask. When he turned to look at Cloade again, he wasn't the same man. Not quite. It was the same body, but instead of an amicable grin or serenity of angelic proportions on his visage, there was now a demonic leer crafted on his face.

The voice was different and his clothes had subtly changed from a smart black well-groomed morning suit to a shabby and battered faded-grey morning suit. The voice was more gravelly and less friendly and sounded as though it had gotten lost on its way to Hell and had jumped into this person for kicks.

"Now listen to me, _Tony_!" the man boomed, before lowering his voice to a throaty whisper, "You will keep Nanny Hobday on here! She has been with you for 35 years! 35! Most of her life was given to you, and you were going to sack her without even redundancy pay or references! Shame be upon you!" the man walked close to his Lordship and pressed his face towards Tony's with a snarling smirk. "If I even catch a breath of hearing Nanny Hobday's dismissal and I shall be forced to show Lady Cloade some photographs I took of what you and the head footman were doing in your chambers when she was away visiting her friends..." he pulled out fistfuls of photographs that had been taken using a 21st Century digital camera and showed them to the quaking aristocrat.

"Hell's bells!" Lord Cloade whimpered. "I'll be ruined! The scandal!" he gasped, his mouth quivering, "And how did you get such pictures of that quality?"

But 'Tresillian' had taken a large gulp from his silver hip-flask and seemed to return to normal. "I'm glad we have that sorted sir." he beamed as if nothing had happened and strode down the hall as a picture of confidence.

He poked his head into the Drawing Room as he passed. "Humbert, I would like a word outside, please. It's important."

The Baron left Haru alone by herself in the large room. They had left Zoe in Toto's care. They had felt it was best that she wasn't returned to her family before Marmaduke told them his story.

He followed his new friend out into the reasonably quiet street.

Nostradamus stared into the figurine's eyes, all traces of humour gone. "Humbert, listen. I know how you feel about Haru. And I cannot stress how important it is that you must tell her how you feel."

The Baron looked at the ghost enquiringly. "Have you been reading my mind?" he asked, with only the barest hint of suspicion creeping into his voice.

"I have had no need, my friend. It is as plain as day in your eyes. You must tell her. Otherwise you shall regret it for the rest of your days."

"I cannot. It is, simply...well...it's...well, the circumstances are beyond any logical conclusion." The Baron sounded uneasy.

"Very well, I shall have to let Shakespeare take the spotlight again. '_There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads onto fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat and we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures._' Brutus's speech from _Julius Caesar_ eloquently puts the situation forth quite well."

"What you say has some merit, perhaps, but what about when Haru ages? I do not age. I am cursed with my immortality."

"As am I, now. But do please listen. I watched my own twin being murdered before my eyes. A few years later, when I had barely healed those mental wounds, I was helpless as I watched a vampiric monster poach the blood out of my fiancée. I do not regret my time with her, and although I miss her dreadfully, I feel better for having even that short time with her as. It hurts, yes. But without pain, we have no idea of love. Pain defines who are a much as happiness. Please, Humbert, _mon chere amis_, do not let Haru pass you by without letting her know about your feelings, or else you will be haunted forever..." Nostradamus looked very passionate about his long soliloquy. A single tear fell to the door step.

Baron von Gikkingen stared into the emerald eyes and saw himself in them. He knew what he must do. "Thank you, my friend."

Nostradamus handed the Baron his hip-flask. "here. This is for..when you feel the need to be ruthless and a tad more...dark than normal. I borrowed the recipe from a guy named Jekyll. Odd man. Oh well, I must be off. It's been truly delightful to meet you, Humbert. I do hope I can see you again soon."

"May I ask where you are going?" the Baron questioned, his voice still amazingly even.

"Tell Lord Cloade that his butler will recover from his illness very shortly, and that Tresillian the Comptroller of the Household has resigned, please." he paused for dramatic effect. "Let's just say that I have a date with an angel..." he ginned at his friend and dissolved into blue smoke which dispersed into nothingness.

(_)

He reappeared some 80 miles away in a dripping Paris alleyway as thunderclouds boomed overhead, but that is quite a different story...

(_)

A/N: If you have seen Disney's The Haunted Mansion film, please note that I have tried to describe Nostradamus as one of the ghosts in that style. I thought the plot of that film was complete nonsense; but I loved the sets, musical soundtrack and special effects – especially the refreshing take on ghosts. You may notice the similarity to my scene and the deleted scene in the film where the maid Emma reveals she is a ghost to the Evers children. In my defence it was either lampooning that or opting for something even more clichéd...


	9. Chapter 9

**A Gaslight Romance – Chapter 9**

Lord Anthony Cloade was never considered a weak or easily-frightened man, after all it takes great courage to stand up in Parliament and say precisely and exactly, without reserve or hesitation, why one feels, "My lords, ladies and gentlemen, that perhaps, in a certain light, looking at things by and large, taking into account every possible and conceivable angle and permutation that can be suggested, it may not be considered, by certain people, to be the _wisest_ decision that has ever passed through the House of Lords, as stated by some, to allow the new laws created by the Commons to be passed that state that all nubile young ladies of a virtue most dubious, (not, of course, my lords, ladies and gentlemen, that I myself have _ever_ consorted with or met any such young ladies, you of course understand,) to go about wearing flower pots painted bright green on their heads so that anyone seeking fertility treatment, (which I _personally_ feel is an wholly heretical business,) can enquire for their advice, and, (_so I have heard_,) do perform ritual dances around bedchambers, which (_so I have heard on the grapevine_,) costs extra, to increase the chances of fertility, (and not, I repeat, _not_, you of course understand, have I _ever_ had any connection with those sorts of female ladies in _any way, shape or form_ whatsoever)".

But today he had been shocked to his very core. He slumped into a button-backed leather armchair and stared blankly into space, his once proud visage now baring a look of craven terror. He muttered unintelligibly at nobody, and whimpered to nothingness.

The Honourable Meredith Cloade was never a man considered easily surprised. A tornado might have ripped the roof off the house and he would simply stand there and pull out his pipe and proceed to smoke it in a nonchalant manner as if nothing but a light breeze had passed through. That was what being a hunter was all about, after all. One couldn't be surprised at anything, in his line of business, or else one ended up shot on some dusty veldt by a bullet. However, today, he had his first surprise in years, when he walked in to ask Tony if he was finished with the blarsted Comptroller of Household so that the blarsted Comptroller of the Household would get a blarsted move on with getting someone in to repair his blarsted gasfire. But the young man with the haunting green eyes who had called himself Tresillian was not there. Meredith's keen hunting ears had heard the front door open and click shut again. Hmm.

But instead of an imperious butler within the Writing Room, he discovered his normally rational younger brother looking as though he was about to eject his breakfast and last night's supper all over the impala skin rug that Meredith had shot some years ago.

The hunter looked at the 4th Marquess of Derrington-on-Sea, and wondered what on Earth it was that Tresillian had done to put this level of fear into Young Tony. He didn't waste time on sentiment and marched stiffly out of the room.

(_)

The Baron watched his new friend vanish and sighed wistfully. He didn't quite yet feel like examining the hip-flask, or its potentially volatile contents, so he thoughtfully pocketed it for later use. Suddenly, there was another puff of blue smoke. For an instant, the Baron hoped that perhaps Nostradamus may be returning to aid he and Haru after all; but there was no grinning man. Merely the silver cat's head-handled cane made with the mysterious black hard material. And...an envelope fluttered to the doorstep...

Baron von Gikkingen knew who it was addressed to. He opened it carefully and let his eyes run over the note written in small, cramped and geometrically untidy handwriting that may have been actually written by a certain vampire whose surname begins with D.

_I noticed that you are not currently carrying a cane with you, so I wondered if you would perhaps like mine. I know it is not much, but please take it as a sign of friendship - besides, it's wasted on me, I don't care for canes particularly unless I'm in a West End show._

_PS: Lateral cogitation is the key, I believe. I'd advise you to think inside the box before you think outside it._

_PPS: With regards to the flask and Haru, The Writing is on the Wall..._

The Baron turned on his heel, pocketing the note as he did so. He entered the house once more, and headed back into the Drawing Room. Haru, who had been idly examining a teak what-not filled with little china trinkets, looked up hastily; but she relaxed when she saw who it was.

"Haru, does anything strike you odd about this case?" The topaz eyes flashed at Haru, as he spoke, almost hypnotically.

"Uh...apart from the fact that a little girl came from her time to ours through a hole in space and we followed her and met a ghost, no, not really." Haru teased, walking towards a velvet sofa and sitting down.

"But I think that there's rather more to this case than that. Following Nostradamus's idea, this is similar to a murder case."

"But Zoe wasn't killed!" Haru objected, standing up again.

"Perhaps not, but to all those concerned, the result is the same. Haru was here, and now she is gone. Why? That is the question. As Hercule Poirot often said, the victim of a crime is often the key."

Haru thought about this. She returned to the settee, and after a while of pacing before the empty fireplace, the Baron joined her. "You mean that someone here wants her out of the way? But how could they make a hole in space?" the girl asked, looking in the cat figurine's face.

"That is what we're here to discover." the Baron replied calmly, his ears pricking up at the sound of approaching footsteps, sounds too soft to be detected by human ears. "If I'm not much mistaken, the door will open in one, two, three..."

The mahogany panelled door did indeed swing open, revealing a sallow-faced, dour-looking man dressed in a dull brown and rather shabby three-piece suit. He stepped through and closed the door with a quiet click.

"Might I ask who you are?" his voice sounded rusty, as if it wasn't used very much.

"Certainly. My names is Baron Humbert von Gikkingen, and I am here to solve the mystery of the disappearance of Lord Cloade's daughter." the baron stood up, and motioned for his companion to do likewise. "And this young lady is Haru, who assists me with my work."

"It is nice to meet you both." said the man, as if he himself did not actually believe the words he spoke were true, but more as if he was simply attempting to observe the ordinary social protocols. "I am the Honourable Meredith Cloade; formerly Lord Meredith Cloade, 4th Marquess of Derrington-on-Sea."

"How come you're not the 4th Marquess any more?" Haru blurted out before she could stop herself.

"There were...complications. Being shipwrecked on a small island within an area notorious for its windlessness within the West Indies for eleven years can destroy a man." Meredith Cloade's voice was as cold and sharp as a ceilingful of icicles. "After seven years of having been missing, a person is declared legally dead. My brother inherited everything, even my title. After my rescue I was not reinstated. Not that I am complaining, of course. Being a mere commoner has left me free to hunt whenever and wherever I please. I much prefer to be on some far-flung plain, tracking a noble creature to hang upon my wall, than tied to that stuffy House of Lords surrounded by a herd of squawking mindless old windbags." his eyes had become glazed, and his voice sounded cracked, as though he had not spoken his mind so freely in decades.

The silence that followed permeated the room in the same way the pea-soupers permeated London so frequently, and so absolutely. The silence was broken by two voices speaking loudly, approaching.

"...looked in on 'im just now and he was gibbering to 'eemself _ma tante_! It is most _incroyable_, is it not?" said a voice Haru did not recognise. It sounded young and French.

"Oh no no no no, dear. You know what Tony's like after he does his little tummy exercises. He simply carn't get up for hours!" clucked another voice. This one was English, upper-class, yet very warm and approachable.

As the voices drew nearer, Meredith opened the door once more and stuck his head out in the corridor. "Celia, Franz, we have some guests." he muttered gravely.

"Oh how splendid! Now Franz dear, are you sure you're not going to pop orf upstairs to change, you don't look terribly presentable, and why you got up at this time of day I carn't think! Why, half the morning has gone already!" the unseen Lady Celia twittered to the other resident.

"But I am a bo'emian! Eet is how we like to be n'est-il pas?" the second voice said half-jokingly, although there was a mixture of wanton defiance thrown in.

The voices had reached the doorway, now. The Baron had stood up once more and strode over towards the doorway to receive the new arrivals.

As the two figures stepped in, what happened next frightened Haru more than she could have ever thought possible.

The face, that handsome and usually passive face, was now a rigid mask of pure surprise mingled with abject horror. The topaz eyes had widened comically to twice their usual size, although there nothing funny within that moment. From the mouth which usually only uttered calm comments issued a scream the likes of which had never been heard on Earth before. There was nothing human in that voice except for the very fear it carried. It was barely even a voice. It sounded to Haru more like the sound that is produced when one rubs a damp finger around the rim of a wineglass, only louder, stronger and there were hundreds of fingers and wineglasses, all going off at different times and all producing the same cacophony of shock and amazement.

The owner of the mouth suddenly became completely inflexible, as though Nostradamus had flicked him once more, although there was no transformation back. The figure tilted backwards and, to Haru at least, time slowed to a crawl. She watched helpless as her friend fell downwards, downwards towards the hard floor, and heard the unmistakeable sound of something large and ceramic shattering into a million pieces.

Baron Humbert von Gikkingen had ceased to be.


End file.
